Comfort
by speechless97
Summary: He knew his team better than his own family. That's why he also knew something was wrong the second they stepped out of the elevator. Hints of M/P, but not really.


**[I might've overdone Morgan's anger problem, but I don't know... What do you think?]**

"_If you look closely enough, amid the merciless and the bitter, there is always the chance that you may find comfort and the promise of something good." _-Bob Greene

He hadn't stopped clicking his pen, it seemed, since the moment the plane took off. The persistent clicking noise probably annoyed the crap out of everyone in the bullpen, but he didn't care. His eyes were fixed on the door, foot tapping impatiently against the floor. He couldn't do this. Derek Morgan couldn't just sit here doing paperwork, while his team was out there, no doubt catching another sick murderer. He sighed, looking at the clock. They'd be back any minute now, he told himself. He pouted and cursed the cast on his left arm as he realized that this would be his fate for the next month. Waiting, and doing goddamn paperwork.

* * *

><p><p>

Somehow, he knew they were back before he saw them.

Maybe it was Reid's facts he swore he heard coming form the elevator. Maybe it was Emily's perfume, or the click of JJ's heels. He knew his team better than his own family. That's why he also knew something was wrong the second they stepped out of the elevator. Hotch went right into his office, but that was to be expected. That Rossi and JJ retreated into their offices too, mumbling 'hello's' to him, was strange. That Reid had barely acknowledged his existence, but kept his eyes glued to Emily, well, that was strange too.

"Hey kid, what's up?", Derek said, deciding to break the silence.

Reid just shook his head. He didn't want to talk.

But Derek swore he saw the young genius's eyes flick to Emily. Derek nodded and walked over to where she was standing, swinging her overnight bag over her shoulder.

"Prentiss! How'd the case go? Did we catch him?"

He decided casual conversation was the way to go with her. She wasn't one for heart-to-hearts. But, neither was he.

"The UnSub? Yeah.", she said, the look in her eyes sad. Defeated. Other people wouldn't have caught it. It was well hidden under years of faking smiles and compartmentalizing.

But he knew her better. And there it was.

"Hey, are you alright?", he said, worry crossing his face. He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder to stop her from walking away.

"Yeah, Morgan, I'm fine. Just... a rough case, that's all. See you tomorrow."

He wasn't convinced. But he let her go; because he knew her well enough to know that she needed her space, her walls. And he wasn't going to pry.

So that's why, even as 100 things to say were running through his mind, he just said "Goodnight, Prentiss", and let her walk out the door.

* * *

><p><p>

It wasn't until he heard soft whimpers coming from inside JJ's office that he moved. He'd just been standing there, trying to convince himself that it really was just a tough case getting to his team. But then he heard it. The small, defeated sob floating out of the open door. He was inside in seconds.

"Jayje, what's wrong?", he said, rushing over to her.

She was sitting at her desk, tears dripping onto the incident report, still blank, on her desk.

It was unsettling to see her cry. She was so strong and composed, he was alarmed at what must've happened to this woman break down.

"We... we- almost lost her.", came JJ's shaky reply.

Immediately, he knew who 'she' was. And he understood.

"Shh, come one, tell me what happened.", he told her, rubbing her shoulders, trying to maintain the little composure he had left.

"She- she went into a hostage situation. She... she traded herself for Paula... He came this close, Derek.", she said, breaking into sobs again.

Derek pulled her into his arms and held her until she somehow managed to convince him that she was going to be OK.

Then, the anger took over.

All he saw was red as he somehow got into his car. He didn't even realize where he was going, full of rage. Really, he shouldn't have even been driving.

But all he could think about was killing the bastard who'd hurt Emily.

Stoplights, street signs, they were all a blur, but somehow, he'd ended up at her place.

He knew they had to talk. They never talked, really talked, and right now he needed to. Because he was afraid that if they didn't he might do something he would regret.

He didn't even know he'd rung the doorbell until she opened the door.

He took I her appearance. She was wearing the clothes from that day, her shirt untucked and jacket off. Her hair was up in a ponytail, and there were mascara stains down her cheeks. Yeah, she'd tried to wipe them away, but there they were, eating away at him.

"Morgan?", she said, her mouth slightly agape.

She smelled of whiskey. Bad.

Derek was a bit surprised; drowning his sorrows was usually his method.

Then he realized he should probably say something. He'd just been standing, jaw set, hand in fists, staring at her.

But she didn't seem to know what to say either. She knew what this was all about. The furious look in Derek's face confirmed that.

"Why didn't you tell me?", was what he decided to say. His hands were shaking by this point, he was struggling not to punch something.

She didn't respond, she just opened the door and waved him inside.

Her place looked as neat as ever, except for the opened whiskey bottle on the counter. That was out of place.

He walked over and sat on her couch, head between his hands, taking deep breaths. He couldn't be angry, not now, he told himself. He could be angry tomorrow at the gym, when he was beating the shit out of his punching bag.

He didn't even notice when she came to sit next to him, but when he looked up she was there, staring into space.

"Emily, why didn't you tell me?", he tried again.

"Tell you what, Morgan? How I was doing my job? About how I saved a woman from being raped and killed?", she looked at him, making eye contact for the first time that night.

She took another gulp from the glass on the coffee table and looked down. They just sat like that, neither knowing what to say, until sobs started to shake Emily's body.

Head in her hands, she was looking down at the carpet, crying.

Derek sighed. Finally, this was normal, this was healthy.

Normal people came home from a near-death experience and broke down. He'd been worried about her; she'd been strong for too long.

He pulled her up and into his arms, smoothing her hair as she cried onto his shoulder.

Derek realized he liked how that felt. Having her close, feeling her heart beating. Even if she was crying, having her in his arms felt good, it felt right.

Of course she pulled away and it was over too soon.

"Tell me what happened, Princess.", he said, gently wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb.

She picked up the glass off the table, twirling it around in her hands, tracing the rim with her finger.

"The UnSub was on a psychotic break. He'd kept his meticulous pattern for years, and that's why no one noticed. But when he lost his job, he got desperate, he took anyone he could. Didn't even stick to successful brunettes, he just took any woman he could get.", she paused, looking up into his face.

"So, when I got to the warehouse, he was using, he was holding a knife to her throat. She was only 20 Derek, her whole life ahead of her. So I told him if he let her walk out, he could have me. I was more his type anyway." She looked disgusted.

Derek sprang up and started pacing the room.

"How far did he get?", he managed to mutter through clenched teeth.

"Derek, it's not- he didn't-", she tried to calm him down.

"Emily! I need to know."

"Let's just say JJ got there in time.", she said, gulping down the rest of her whiskey.

Before she knew it, Derek's hand was in the wall, the not broken one, at least. So much for waiting for the rage to come tomorrow. But he couldn't stand it. The image of his best friend's face on mangled bodies, lifeless corpses. He wouldn't forgive himself if anything ad happened. If he hadn't broken his stupid arm...

He collapsed on the couch next to her. She leaned on his shoulder, suddenly exhausted.

"I should've been there. I'm sorry."

She just nodded. Even in her drunken haze, she knew not to argue. Even if it wasn't his fault in the slightest.

"Emily?"

She grunted, eyes already closing, head on his shoulder.

"Can I stay? I'm afraid I might go and do something stupid like kill the guy who hurt you."

Emily smiled at that.

"Always", she muttered before kissing him on the cheek and snuggling up against his shoulder, falling into a long-needed sleep.

**[Review, please?]**


End file.
